- Music
- 30 Jan 03
With little to offer in the visuals department – five blokes playing guitars whilst remaining stationary having lost its allure many years ago – The Thrills instead hope to get by on sheer pop class instead.
Given that the acts on show tonight are being sold as the cream of the groups currently operating in the “alternative” sphere, the discerning punter can really only arrive at one of two conclusions: (1) The hacks at the NME are a pretty excitable lot, (2) These bands are merely the best of a fairly ropy bunch.
The first group on the bill to really catch the attention are undoubtedly local indie favourites, The Thrills. The Blackrock boys have to their name one reasonably promising EP, and a hell of a lot of hype. Which would all be fine, if the live show wasn’t quite so pedestrian. With little to offer in the visuals department – five blokes playing guitars whilst remaining stationary having lost its allure many years ago – The Thrills instead hope to get by on sheer pop class instead.
Unfortunately , the group’s mix of jaunty rock ‘n’ roll rhythms and Beach Boys-style melodies sounds pretty indistinguishable from any number of jingle-jangle outfits to have followed in The La’s’ wake down through the years. ‘Santa Cruz’ gets the crowd growing with its naggingly catchy chorus, but when the band follow it with a dull rocker straight from the Toploader canon, the thought that The Thrills still have a lot to learn becomes unavoidable.
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Worryingly, it’s left to curiously Status Quo-like New Zealand collective The Datsuns to save the day, which they ultimately don’t. The band have energy to burn, and in lead singer Dolf (pictured) possess a super-energetic, Jagger-like frontman, but these qualities are outweighed by their shortcomings. Occasionally, they hit the mark – the pounding beats and sugary pop-metal riff of the Von Bondies collaboration, ‘Harmonic Generator’, being an obvious example – but The Datsuns are a classic “if” band – if they could vary the dynamics a bit more, if they had a couple more killer singles, they’d be amazing.
And in the immortal words of one David Brent, “if only me auntie had bollocks, she’d be me uncle.”